Miss America
by pampongchamp
Summary: We didn't hear about Jim's trip to Australia, because he doesn't remember it. Very dark, a little AU. Rated for drug use, language - Originally written 04/17/07


**A/N: Originally published April 16, 2007 for More Than That**

Warnings: language, drug use, sexual situations – Not for those who prefer their Jim to be wholesome

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Title and lyrics from Something Corporate's "Miss America"

* * *

><p>The balcony is too small, and the stupid plastic chair is flimsy. He won't go back inside though. The redhead with the cute accent and big tits is still asleep in the bed.<p>

_I miss my Miss America_

His phone is on the ground, the green light blinking every thirty seconds, a horrible reminder that he's wasting precious time. He wants to call her, but he can't even reach forward to grab the damn thing.

_I'm too stoned to call today_

If he could talk he'd tell her that the air smells like the ocean no matter where you are. That the people talk funny, but they're all so friendly. That he misses her like crazy and she made a huge mistake yesterday.

It had been the 11th in Scranton since 2 o'clock that afternoon. He'd been fucked up since about 2:15.

_And I'm locked in my hotel room_  
><em>thinking over our goodbyes<em>

He had started in the hotel bar, where he proceeded to get trashed. Spend most of his "sightseeing money" on weed and coke. A girl in the corner saw him buying it and offered to suck his dick for some. They spent the next few hours draining the mini bar and getting high. He's pretty sure they fucked at some point, but it's all a little fuzzy.

He goes back inside and his skin is tingling. Thoughts of Pam and "I can't" and "me too" are making his way back to him. The whiskey at the bottom of the bottle is warm.

In the bathroom he pours what's left in the baggie onto the counter. After a few hours he is already doing this like a pro. He's made four neat straight lines on the imitation granite. The first line burns his throat and he welcomes the pain. The second one makes his blood hum in his veins and he sat back against the wall to keep himself from running in circles.

He notices a pair of bloodshot eyes in the mirror.

"Can I have a hit?" she asks in an accent that was cuter a few hours ago.

He hands her the straw and lets her finish it up. And in a matter of seconds it was gone. He is out of escape routes.

She turns, wiping her nose on her wrist. She holds out her manicured hand for him, "Come with me. I'm so horny." Her words are overly exaggerated and he wants to tell her he's out of drugs. But he realizes he still has one last escape in pale arms and curly red hair.

He never liked fucking girls from behind, it seemed degrading. It was a staple with Katy though; she looked more like Pam that way. It would work with this girl too.

He wishes he knew her name so he would have something to scream other than the name that is threatening to spill out of his mouth.

Through the open screen he hears the phone ring and he leaves her there because to be honest he just doesn't give a shit.

He only sees the Scranton area code before he answers with a frenzied greeting. His voice is rough and not his own.

"Jim?" it's not her and he considers hanging up.

"It's Kevin, how's your vacation going, any Australian hotties?"

He doesn't want to have small talk right now, "What do you want Kevin?" his voice is harsh, but for Christ sakes, he's naked on a balcony in downtown Sydney.

"Pam called off her wedding. You totally need to get on that."

The phone is on the ground and he's back in the room in mere moments. He's not even looking at the chick in the bed. He's tossing her clothes at her, "Get out."

"I thought we were having a good time." She purrs.

"Get the fuck out of my room!"

"Jesus Christ" she mumbles while she's picking up her things.

He needs to talk to Pam. He can't call her because his tongue feels too big and speaking is impossible. The complimentary notepad and pen are calling him from the nightstand.

_I will write this down for you so you can read it_

He picks up the pen and writes "Dear Pam," but the letters are crooked and unreadable. He throws the pad and he tries to stand but his legs are betraying him. He's so fucked up.

He needs to get to her. He has to get her back.

_And I don't care if you don't love me_

He's on the floor, the breeze is pouring in from the balcony.

_And I don't care if you won't change_

The tears are falling before he can stop them. "Pam I'm coming. Wait, please" he manages to croak out.

_And I'll be home before the morning comes and you won't have to be alone._

He doesn't make it to her, he's crushed under the weight of his self-medication and in the morning he only remembers that Pam doesn't love him.


End file.
